


If Words Were Permanent

by haise_lowse



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Also idk if this will get NSFW, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Artist Keith (Voltron), Big Brother Shiro (Voltron), Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Shiro (Voltron), Boys Kissing, Cuban Lance (Voltron), F/M, Gay Keith (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, Kissing, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, M/M, Minor Allura/Shiro (Voltron), Multi, Shiro is Keith's big brother figure, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Trans Character, Trans Keith (Voltron), You Have Been Warned, but we'll see, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 10:33:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haise_lowse/pseuds/haise_lowse
Summary: The Blade of Marmora has been a struggling business ever since the death of Keith Kogane's father. The tattoo parlor was handed over to eighteen-year-old Shiro. By the time he turned twenty-three, Keith was eighteen, and soon they were co-owning the business as two broke college students. As if that wasn't bad enough...Their lives become a little more hectic when the addition of a new receptionist comes into play.... a receptionist who'sshitat his job.What happens next will SHOCK you!!!





	1. Lavender

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this fic, but it is going to be a long-term project of mine, and I'll post chapter-by-chapter. 
> 
> Oso conmigo.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intro to Broganes tattoo shop shenanigans.

      Ten clients so far. Only one smoke break. Keith was going to lose his mind at this rate and Shiro could sense it. However his hold remained steady and his line work precise, brow softened with concentration and his hand firm, but not too heavy. Trace, wipe, trace, wipe. Dip the needle into the ink. Repeat. The vibrations of the gun in his hand soothed him and, despite Shiro insisting the use of earbuds was unprofessional, Keith absolutely needed to drown out every sound with his music in order to concentrate. Otherwise he’d become overstimulated with all of the sounds of the shop and the hubbub outside. The downside to being located in College Town was the multitude of clubs on every street corner. 

      The image of the lavender he was permanently drawing on his client’s bicep began piecing together, and after a good hour and a half session, he was finished. A name and a date wrote in cursive were drawn in with the pedals, twisting, turning, and blending in. You would only be able to notice it if you were truly stopping to admire the piece- she requested it to be subtle, and Keith was the King of subtlety. No matter how many times Shiro had seen Keith work he never failed to make the comment: “how the hell do you tattoo such intricate pieces in such a short span of time?” And each time Keith retorted by telling him the same thing; that he sounded pretentious when he said that. The clients always left happier than when they entered, Keith having exceeded their expectations each and every time.

      There were ink splatters and smudges on and around the tattoo, and with a squeeze from the bottle of the disinfectant soap, he covered the area he just finished tattooing with the cool and soothing mixture. He grabbed a clean paper towel and carefully placed it over his artwork, gently wiping it from top to bottom, until no access ink was left and the tattoo appeared clean and crisp. Keith removed an earbud.

      “Take a look,” there was a mirror to the side of his desk that he gestured to. As his client stood up from her seat and stretched, he watched as she admired her new piece in the mirror. He noticed how her eyes sparkled and her mouth stretched into a smile; that was always Keith’s favorite part, whether or not he cared to admit it.

      “I love it! I love it so much,” she happily covered her mouth with her hand, turning side to side in front of the body mirror, as if to demonstrate how her skin moved with the new ink. “Thank you so much. My father would have loved it,” those words were spoken much quieter and her smile became a little more sincere and intimate. As Keith cleaned his equipment, he nodded.

      “I know he would’ve.” A smile followed suit, as the client looked at Keith through the mirror. He dressed the tattoo and accepted her payment at the front. She gave him a generous tip, and he made sure to thank her for it.

      It was tough sometimes. A lot of clients (especially on the weekends) were people new to the tattoo scene, meaning they didn’t know tip etiquette and that it applied in the art world. This was a piece he had been working on all week, truly pouring his heart into it, and the hard work always paid off when his clients could see and feel it through his art. The bell to the door chimed as she exited the shop. Keith removed his second earbud and tucked both into his pocket, knowing all too well that it would be hell untangling them later.

      “For someone who doesn’t like people,” Shiro began, sliding a stack of papers into a folder, “you’re really good with them.” Keith shrugged, throwing his gloves away and standing up to stretch.

      “I guess. I need a smoke,” he retrieved the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Shiro scoffed.

      “You said you quit.”

      “I did,” Keith placed the cigarette between his teeth, “and then I started again.”

      “Whatever,” Shiro laughed as he put the folder away in a drawer beneath the register.

      “When are you gonna ask her out?” Keith asked the question in the form of a challenge, eyebrows raising up underneath his fringe to soften his expression. It was obvious he hit a nerve when Shiro appeared taken aback, ceasing his filing in favor of glaring in Keith’s direction. Okay. Too soon. Not like it was obvious (even to strangers who watched his and Allura’s interactions) that there was sexual and romantic tension. Keith usually wasn’t the type to ask about anyone’s personal life or get involved in their affairs; it just wasn’t his forte. He was aware, though, especially when it came to his closest friend. Not so much when it was himself.

      “Go, I can handle this dead lobby.” Despite Shiro’s tone there was a smile on his face.

      “Are you sure?” Keith teased as he pulled his jacket over his sleeveless shirt. The jacket itself was years old, all of the holes he’d worn into it covered in patches he had bought or made from strips of other clothing he wasn’t able to save. The number of times he was told to just toss it was more than he could remember. As he opened the front door to leave, he heard Shiro call him a “smartass”, pretending to say it under his breath, his whisper purposely loud enough for Keith to overhear. On the way outside he shot the bird behind his back, lighting his cigarette with the opposing hand, a cloud of smoke surrounding his figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry not sorry for the clickbait-y work summary. i enjoy getting feedback about my work, whether it be totally positive or constructive, so don't hesitate to do either (or both!)! thanks for reading :)))


	2. Tall, Dark & Handsome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith sees a familiar face in the lobby. Lance is desperate for a job. Shiro is _tired_.

      The bell attached to the front door chimed. It was a bell that Keith tied to the handle around Christmas time when he was twelve. It stayed there ever since, the wear of the cord and the paint chipping off of the bells an affirmation of its age. Keith was positive that they never had a client this early in the morning, ever since he began working in the shop. He was lounging in the back, where his “studio” was, on a small loveseat that was pushed up against one of the walls near the back exit. Now he was forced to stand up to go to the front, because if he didn’t he’d surely get an earful from Shiro about being amiable with the customers (or… something like that). It wasn’t his strongest suit, for both his father and Shiro were mindful of this and never quite pushed him to be personable. It was more like they coached him on it, but to Keith it felt pretty damn close to being lectured.

      As he approached the threshold that led to the front desk, his legs seemed to forget how to walk any further when he caught sight of the man standing there.

      _Dammit_.

      For a moment he froze and stared, because he knew this guy- they went to the same community college. Every morning Keith would park his shitty Buick in the back of the student car lot, and every morning he would see the same, stupid, shiny Volvo parked near the front. At first it was just the car catching Keith’s sight, mostly since he never saw the owner of it getting out or in. It didn’t matter who drove the car, really. There was a clawing in Keith’s brain, a restlessness, when he only noticed a part of the puzzle and failed to discover the missing pieces. It was uncomfortable, he didn’t understand it, but it led to him absentmindedly finding ways to solve these puzzles (like, for example, skipping out on his morning coffee to get to school fifteen minutes earlier, thus getting there at the same time as this mystery man). That morning he was able to witness the Volvo pulling up, a man exiting the driver’s side…

      … Then Keith became hip-deep in Baader-Meinhof; finally, after figuring out who this mystery driver was who always managed to snag the perfect parking spot, this guy was suddenly everywhere.

      Keith noticed him in the hallways, walking with his arm linked around a girl’s, sometimes two, always different. He noticed him in certain classes, in line at the gas station around the corner, and lo and behold, this Volvo driver was entering his shop.

      The man was tall, slender, tan, and annoyingly enough, his skin was flawless. It looked smooth and soft; completely blank. There was no birthmark or mole in sight. It was the polar opposite of Keith’s skin, which was incredibly pale and smothered with art. Even before tattoos he had freckles littering his arms and back, some small moles on his neck, and freckles on his face that were only noticeable if you were close enough to him. They hadn’t been pointed out by many people since Keith wasn’t the type to let people get so close to him, physically, or however else. Keith wanted so badly to fill in the blanks of this stranger’s body.

      “Keith?” It was Shiro’s voice that forced Keith out of his daze. They were both staring at him now. So much for being amiable.

      “Sorry,” Keith cleared his throat and stretched his arms, up over his head, bent them at the elbow and moved his hands between his shoulder blades, “still kind of asleep.” It was a lie, but he stifled a yawn.

      “I can come back another time?” This fucking Greek statue-esque man spoke up for the first time since Keith entered the room. It was only a matter of seconds before Keith began to trip over his own words. Beautiful people made him nervous.

      “No,” shaking his head, he plopped down in a chair near Shiro, who was standing, “it’s fine. So, is this gonna be your first tattoo?”

      “Oh, I’m actually not here for that,” the man rubbed the back of his head, mouth forming a small smile, “I mean- tattoos are cool and all, but I hate needles and I’m a huge baby,” a laugh followed that and Keith wanted to punch this guy for existing.

      “He was asking about a job,” Shiro added, looking at Keith over his shoulder.

      “As an artist?”

      “God, no,” and this guy laughed again. The audacity. “Pretty sure I failed art in middle school.”

      “Do we need a receptionist?” Keith raised an eyebrow, where it disappeared under his long fringe.

      “Having both of this studio’s only artists run around getting paperwork, making copies, and filing while also doing all of the art is kind of messy. So, yeah, I’d say we need a receptionist,” It was as if Shiro knew that Keith didn’t want to hire this guy, because he gave him that look that he only ever gives Keith when he’s making an ass out of himself. Time to tone it down.

      “Okay,” shrugging, he retrieved the pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and hit the top against his hand a few times before removing the cellophane. “Then hire him.”

      “Woah- really? I really need a job- oh man, thank you.” The man put his hands together as if he were in prayer. “Oh! I’m Lance by the way,” he extended one of his hands towards Keith, a wide and friendly smile still present.

      “Keith,” he stood from his chair, pulling a cigarette from his pack and placing it between his lips. “Welcome aboard,” was all he said before blatantly ignoring the hand offered to him, turning to exit through the back so he could stand outside and light his cigarette. He took a long, burning drag.

 

      “Is he allergic to handshakes or somethin’?” Lance looked genuinely concerned by Keith’s reaction to his friendly nature, as he turned to look at Shiro, arm slowly falling down to hang at his side.

      “Nah,” Shiro laughed at the cheesy joke and shook his head, “it’s just… _Keith_. A little standoffish at first, but… he’ll warm up to you.” It was difficult to determine the type of people Keith would get along with- there were times when he clicked with people similar to himself, and other times when he clicked better with those who were complete opposites. They’d just have to wait and see with this guy, although… Shiro had noticed a difference in Keith’s demeanor when he first laid eyes on Lance, and he tended to notice these changes before Keith could. There was a shift in how he sold himself. It made him wonder why Keith wanted so badly to drive Lance away from the shop.

      “Should I try and fist bump him next time?” Lance tried again, as if noticing the uneasiness radiating from Shiro.

      “Keith likes personal space and silence. Give him that and you guys will be the best of friends.”

      Shiro smiled, however, it did nothing to reassure Lance.

      They were not going to get along at  _ all _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a mess. Keith is a mess. Everyone is a mess.   
> Next chapter might be a little backstory on Lance, or Keith. I haven't decided yet but do stay tuned !!


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